


A Touch so Brief

by ActiveAgression



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Soulmate teleport things, Soulmates, cute as fuck, sad as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 03:31:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5990374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActiveAgression/pseuds/ActiveAgression
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing was ever weird at Torchwood; not the blowfish people, not Jack's immortality, not whatever the fuck was happening with Gwen, not Owen being 'deadish', not even the naked hide and seek in the hot house was weird. But this… this was weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Touch so Brief

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on ff.net, where i post most of my non RPF stories but i figured by putting it on here, i could make more people cry so... you're welcome.

Nothing was ever really weird at Torchwood, weird was everyday after all. 

Hell, before Ianto even began working at Torchwood 3 it’d been weird. 

There’d been that bloody pterodactyl after all, but maybe that didn’t count as weird because he’d been the one to bring it into the warehouse in the first place and he couldn’t kid himself into believing that it was out of some worry for the greater good of humanity. 

It’d been a selfish act, one of deception and manipulation but as he walked away that day, he felt that maybe he was the one who’d gotten played. 

He liked Jack, the man he’d been forcing himself to seduce. He liked him. He’d never liked another man before but he’d felt so guilty whenever Jack flashed a brilliant smile his way and then he’d been on top of Jack. It was a moment that seemed permanently seared into his brain. 

No matter how many times he thought of Lisa and what had happened to her, he couldn’t be angry with Jack because all he could picture was Jack laughing underneath him and that laughter faltering into a silence that conveyed just how much Jack had wanted to kiss him. Ianto had wanted to kiss him too, more then he’d ever wanted anything else. 

‘Fuck,’ he’d thought as he walked away because liking Jack hadn’t been the plan. It hadn’t even seemed possible, but it was. He liked Jack; he liked how solid he’d felt beneath him, he liked how Jack’s blue eyes danced with humor, he liked how happy he felt after the misery of the last couple months.   
So he’d liked Jack. He’d liked him a lot. And now he loved him, not that he could ever tell Jack – would ever tell him. 

Regardless, nothing was ever weird at Torchwood; not the blowfish people, not Jack’s immortality, not whatever the fuck was happening with Gwen, not Owen being ‘deadish’, not even the naked hide and seek in the hot house was weird.   
But this… this was weird. 

‘This is weird,’ Ianto thinks as he stares at the place the little spherical alien tech used to be… a second ago. 

‘This is weird,’ he thinks as he looks up and realises he’s no longer in the hub nor any place he’s ever been before. It’s a bedroom for sure, but not any bedroom he’s been in before. He can tell for sure because the bed is floating… and the lights are hanging from nothing, little glowing orbs flowing around the room. The walls are a nice shade of blue though, the same shade as his favourite tie. Worst of all is the view, not because it sucks or anything. Quite the opposite, it’s astounding in it’s beauty. 

‘It’s space,’ he thinks despairingly, leaning against the nearest wall for support ‘I’m in space.’

Then the wall slides apart against him and he falls into someone’s arms.   
‘Oh fuck,’ he thinks as he looks up into the very familiar face of Captain Jack Harkness. He tries to come up with a story, a timeline, a convincing lie so he doesn’t fuck up Jack’s future but it ends up unnecessary as the blue eyes of his lover widen and Jack loses any composure he may’ve had to gasp out, “Ianto?” 

This, Ianto decides, makes things far easier to deal with and he tells Jack this, still cradled delicately in his arms like fine china, “this is good,” he tells Jack who is still looking at him like he’s the sun, “now I don’t need to lie about who I am.”

Jack doesn’t seem to hear any of this; instead he buries his face into Ianto’s shoulder at the most uncomfortable angle.   
“Ianto,” he says again and his voice cracks right down the middle. 

“Are you crying Jack,” Ianto asks hesitantly, bringing his hand up to run through Jack’s short strands of hair. 

“No,” Jack mutters but he is, the wetness seeping through Ianto’s shirt. 

“I guess I’m dead by now,” Ianto muses and Jack wraps his arms tighter around him, “did I at least lose my hair,” he jokes. 

Jack pulls away, bleary eyed and… ‘Devastated,’ Ianto thinks.

“How long has it been Jack?” he asks, unsure on whether he actually wants a number, “Since I died?”

“Too long,” Jack whispers into his ear while pulling them both up and further into the room, “a thousand years.”

Ianto pauses because hell, Jack looks great for how old he is now.

“A thousand years exactly?” he asks skeptically. 

“Exactly.” 

“You still remember me,” he says and it sounds unbelievably vulnerable to his own ears. 

Jack hugs him tighter, “of course I do,” he says like there was never any doubt. 

Ianto wants to say more, ask more but then Jack decides to kiss him, warm and soft and unlike any other kiss they’ve ever shared. It’s not lust driven, full of tongue and harsh moans – it’s passionate and perfect, just a simple press of lips moving together like cogs in a machine. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” Jack tells him between kisses and Ianto just buries his fingers in Jack’s hair and holds on because Jack just keeps going like he’ll never stop, like he could never get enough of these soft open mouthed kisses. 

Jack tastes the same as always to Ianto, but Ianto doesn’t to Jack because it’s been so long and the memories have faded and their last kiss had tasted like tears and death and grief.   
Jack pulls away and kisses Ianto on his upturned nose, resting their foreheads together. 

“How did you get here?” he asks and Ianto shrugs dumbly partly because he has no idea what that thing he probably shouldn’t have touched is and partly because Jack is probably the best kisser ever. 

“Artifact,” he murmurs finally. 

“What year was it?” Jack asks. 

“2009,” Ianto says and Jack almost starts crying again but he doesn’t. 

“When?” he asks and Ianto looks amused and he really shouldn’t. 

“22nd of July.” 

He really really shouldn’t because that leaves him two months…   
“What artifact,” he chokes out instead of ruining it all, all two months. 

“Ah, it was this little glowing ball,” Ianto tells him and Jack can feel his own heart falter.

“Half green, half blue?” He asks and Ianto nods up at him curiously. 

“What was it?” he asks Jack and Jack says, “teleport” which is the nicest half lie he’s ever told because sure, it is a teleport but it’s not only that. It’s a little trinket thing belonging to a particularly peaceful and love based culture. It teleports you into the future for a short time… to the side of the person you’re meant to spend the rest of your life with. 

It’s cute really, little soul mate spheres but when Jack had used one on a whim when he was much younger, it had taken him to a graveyard on a planet so old and decayed that no words remained imbedded in the tombstone.   
He’d cried briefly, his soul mate was dead after all, but then realised how silly that all was. He was a time agent after all; he’d find them eventually.   
And he had, he’d found this strong gorgeous man in his arms… only to lose him so quickly and so stupidly. 

“Can I get back?” Ianto asks him and he nods automatically. 

“Yeah… it’s a temporary thing,” he says and the confession is worse then dying a thousand times because it is temporary… he’ll never see Ianto Jones ever again. 

“Sweet,” Ianto says and then he’s kissing Jack firmly and passionately and Jack may not know how to deal with Ianto’s death, but he knows how to do this. 

And then it’s easier because it’s just skin on skin and wet kisses and soft little Welsh tinted moans that Jack knew from the first moment he’d ever heard them were going to be the greatest sounds to ever exist. It’s not quite like how they used to do it, for one the bed is floating but the real difference is the feeling, the emotion that Jack always stupidly pushed away because he’d naively assumed Ianto would be around much longer then he actually was. 

“Only 26,” slips out of his mouth at one point and Ianto laughs at him. 

“Lots of time to learn still,” he murmurs against Jack’s mouth, “I assume I get better.”

Jack fakes a wry smile, “can’t beat perfection.” Ianto snorts at it but it’s the absolute truth to Jack, after all these years Ianto is still perfect. 

When he falls asleep finally, finally because it’s been so many years since sleep was actually a thing he could manage, it’s perfect. He has the love of his life, his soul mate, pressed naked against him – warm and happy - and for once he doesn’t feel so alone. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against Ianto’s hair and Ianto lifts his head sleepily to smile at him.

“I always have, ever since that pterodactyl,” he says and buries his face back into Jack’s neck. 

“Say it?” Jack asks, smoothing his hand up and down over Ianto’s bare back. 

“I love you,” is mumbled into his skin and he wouldn’t change it for the world, the way the words rumble over his heart and come out hot against his throat. 

There’s silence, a long silence that shakes Jack because isn’t that all there is now. A silence so long, that’ll never be broken by Ianto ever again once he’s gone once more. 

“Don’t go to the Thames House,” Jack tells him because he can break a few time travel laws if it means Ianto would live, he’s okay with that.   
“Just don’t,” Jack says when Ianto says nothing and he drifts off to sleep, convinced that maybe Ianto could survive. 

He doesn’t realize Ianto is already asleep, that his warning’s never heard.   
When he wakes up, Ianto is gone and he’s alone once more. 

 

Back in 2009, Ianto appears in the hub and Jack is all over him, asking what happened and where he went but Ianto just shrugs and blurts out something about a teleport, knowing he can’t tell Jack about his own future. 

“I know you teleported Ianto,” Jack informs him, angrily “my wristband picked it up. You teleported a whole thousand years into the future.”

“A thousand?” Ianto asks, “from now?”

“Not exactly, a thousand minus around two months,” Jack tells him, obviously upset. Ianto feels realization like a sledgehammer to the face.

“Two months,” he whispers and Jack raises an eyebrow at him. 

“What happened Ianto?” he asks softer, kinder. 

“Future stuff,” Ianto answers distractedly, “let’s go have sex.”

“What?” Jack asks because Ianto is never this blunt. 

“Sex,” Ianto repeats and doesn’t wait for an answer, grasping Jack’s sleeve and leading him to the hothouse, which still isn’t weird. It isn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, very different to what i normally post on here, i know. But i can only write about Ray and Ryan so much... that being said i have like 16 stories yet to finish about them so... not to worry boys - and girls; i'm still very much obsessed with them and will continue writing about them. 
> 
> Blah blah.. comment, kudos, whatever the fuck... 
> 
> I love Jack and Ianto, adorable. i love you too, all of you. [Not an invitation to stalk me, i've seen criminal minds - i know how this works]


End file.
